“You invited how many people?” I asked in a panic.
My husband, Dan, just informed me that he volunteered our house for a campaign fundraiser.
“The e-mail went to 800 households.”
“At two adults per house, that could be sixteen hundred people!”
“They won’t all come.”
“How will we know?”
“RSVPs.”
“Are you joking? Folks these days think RSVP means Responding Seems Very Pointless.”
“We’ll have 100 max.”
“Based on what scientific formula?”
“It’s just wine and cheese.”
“Just,” he says. Why do men think all they have to do to throw a party is hang a sign on a freeway bridge and put out wheelbarrows of pretzels and cold beer?
The party is to raise money for a local, sure-bet candidate running for the only open county commissioner’s seat.
“If she’s sure to win,” I asked, angling for an exit strategy, why does she need a fundraising party?”
“So we can tell her we’re behind her.”
“I’ll call her.”
“So she understands our community’s issue, that none of us wants the pretty, two-lane road in the heart of our neighborhood turned into a four-lane thoroughfare.”
“I’ll tell her that, too.”
“She’ll listen better if we hand her a pile of donation checks.”
“So the party’s a bribe.”
“It’s for the public good.”
“It sounds illegal.”
“It’s politics.”
“Same difference.”
“It’s for something bigger than us.”
“Can’t you curry political favor at someone else’s house?”
Dan got us into this because he’s on the homes-association board. In this prestigious elected role, he gets to listen to people complain at all hours, sit in weekly eye-glazing meetings with bloviating officials, report his opinions to residents who think they know better and, for all this, receive no money.
Now we get to host the town.
“It’s not just wine and cheese,” I assure him as the day nears. “It’s blitzing the house so it sparkles, hiding the dirty laundry, rounding up enough wine glasses, setting up tables, finding theme-colored linens, making platters, getting plates and name tags, arranging flowers, decorating, fumigating the dogs, hoping the kids behave, and figuring out parking.”
“Don’t make this so complicated.”
I begin to wonder whether anyone suspected the wives in cases of presidential assassinations. On political party day, while Dan got the wine and cheese, I arranged tightly packed red roses and white Fuji mums in vases, took our two fluffy white bichon frises to the groomers and ordered red and blue collar bows. (God is in the details). I launched prayers to the weather gods asking for an evening nice enough to host everyone on the deck.
That evening, a respectable yet manageable crowd of a hundred people turned out. (How did Dan know?) The weather held. Money flowed in. Wine flowed out. The candidate spoke and promised to help protect our little road. After we washed the last platter and fell into bed, I thought about the pretty road at the heart of our community. If this night saved it, I decided, then all the trouble was worth the cause. But I didn’t tell Dan.
Syndicated columnist Marni Jameson is the author of “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo). You may contact her through .
The life of your party
If you, too, open your home for a political party this campaign season, here are some creative pointers from Joe Richter, director of catering for the Four Seasons in Washington, D.C., where political events happen almost daily.
Focus on fun. At these events, people want great drinks and atmosphere more than great food. For colors, go red, white and blue.
Pour on the patriotism. Beyond red and white wine, consider pouring pomegranate mojitos, blue Curacao cocktails or coconut rum drinks in white glasses to spike the party. Skewer fruit garnishes with flag-wrapped toothpicks.
Add flower power. Make arrangements out of red and white roses or carnations, blue irises, or white Fuji mums. Stick American flags in the vases, and wrap with patriotic ribbon.
Table the drama. For an inexpensive, dramatic centerpiece, fill large, clear glass, hurricane-style vases with water. Add blue or red food coloring. Float a white candle. Measure your dining room tabletop. Have your local home store cut Plexiglas to fit. Cover the table with a collage of campaign literature, news clips, and candidate photos. Put the Plexiglas on top. You protect the table, spark conversations and can use the Plexiglas for future parties, changing the theme.
Saturate the event with campaign literature. Don’t just spread pamphlets on a table. Put buttons, brochures and bumper stickers in tall vases or baskets lined with a patriotic print fabric. Buy cheap 12-by-14-inch picture frames at a discount store. Fill the image area with a montage of campaign materials, replace the glass, and use the transformed frame as a serving tray.
Use candidate cut-outs. Order cookie cutters of McCain and Obama busts online. Use them to cut out finger sandwiches, petit fours, mini pizzas or cookies.
Make music minimal. If you want music, have no more than a piano player. Time the candidate’s remarks to take place exactly halfway through the party.
Be discrete about money. If soliciting donations, have a box in clear view, but don’t make it central. Put something humorous on it like “Poor Box.”
It’s all for the party. Focus on the cause, not the hassle, and remember: Whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican, the greatest political causes start in homes, not Capitols.
